Familiar Intrusion
by ioanhoratio
Summary: Spoiler speculation on a particular scene in Life Sentence based off the CTV promo and promotional photos.  Mac, Lindsay, Danny and raining bullets.  All feels too familiar.
1. Lindsay

**Familiar Intrusion**

**By: ioanhoratio**

**A/N: This is nothing but pure speculation based on the CTV promo for **_**Life Sentence**_** (which I haven't seen yet, but was described over at DLChem) and the promotional photos. It is spoiler-ish so beware! I don't want to ruin anything for anyone, though we should all keep in mind this is just my imaginings running wild. This is short, but I hope you enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Lindsay:<strong>

The glass exploded around her, shards flying in every direction. Her brow lowered in confusion as people began screaming and running. Images of another room, another round of bullets, another shower of glass, filled her mind and her heart pounded. She couldn't move, overcome with the same fear that had filled her that day. Only this time Danny wasn't with her, this time she couldn't cling to him. She panicked. The smell of whiskey, rum and tequila filled her nostrils and heat spread through her body. Where was Danny? Was he hurt?

Suddenly a powerful force hit her, grabbing her, shoving her, forcing her feet to move. She stumbled, but strong arms held her tightly, then pushed her against the wall and surrounded her. She had been held like this before. The smell of alcohol was gone, replaced by well recognized sterile surroundings.

From inside her warm cocoon the sounds of terror became muffled, nearly drowned out by the heartbeat that sounded so close to her ear. This was how Danny had held her, but it didn't smell like Danny. She knew his scent, his body. This was different. Would this time be different?

Her skin began to tingle as she fought the rise of fear. She tried to move her arm around him, to feel his back but he only tightened his grip. "Not yet Lindsay," he commanded.

"Mac?" she cried, her breath getting lost in the fabric of his shirt.

"It's almost over," he promised, and she believed him.

It should have been awkward, having her body wrapped so firmly against his, her face pressed into his chest, but it wasn't. It was safe, comforting, almost…familiar.

She knew the moment it was over. They slid to the floor, and she moved to pull away but again was stopped. "Hold still," was his simple instruction and she felt, rather than saw, his head move, looking in all directions, ensuring it was truly at an end. Satisfied, his grip loosened slowly.

She brought her head up and had to blink to adjust her eyes. She had only been in the darkness of his hold for a few seconds but it had been long enough that the brightness of the lab struck her.

"Are you alright?" he pressed, his hard gaze moving over her body, his hands now wrapped around her upper arms.

She nodded, her voice still hiding. He looked at her a moment longer before nodding his acquiesce and helping her stand. Once he was certain she was fine he released his hold, and stepped away; trusting his employee to begin the work he needed her to perform.

She stopped him, reaching out desperately and grabbing a fistful of his shirt. His jaw tightened and his gaze snapped to hers. She ignored him, and forced his body to turn, running her shaking hands up and down his back.

It was dry.

She let out the breath she had been holding, and Mac gave her a ghost of a smile over his shoulder before quickly moving away, beginning to shout orders.

Lindsay grabbed the closest box of gloves she could find, and then began helping those who hadn't been as protected from harm as she had been.


	2. Mac

**Mac:**

His instincts as a Marine took over. He shouted for others to get down, find protection; the sounds of shattering fighting to drown him out. There were too many people, all scrambling for cover. And then he saw her. She had just stepped out into the hall. Her confusion was clear, and her uncertainty clearer. He didn't hesitate.

He ran as quickly as he could, but tried his best to keep his momentum from slamming her into the wall. He felt the breath rush out of her as he pressed his body tightly against hers. Adrenaline pumped through him, trying to force his muscles into action, but he fought them.

He was exposed, but she was safe.

He heard screaming, and knew there were others in pain, but he only tightened his grip on her. He felt the diamond of her wedding ring dig into the skin of his arm where he had pinned her hand. Her hair tickled his chin. He felt her jerk against him.

"Not yet Lindsay," he commanded, keeping his voice strong. He couldn't risk moving them, couldn't risk the young mother's life.

Her voice was buried against his chest, but he could make out her cry. "Mac?"

He had heard her cry out his name before, had been haunted by it. This time was going to be different. This time she was going to have not reason to fear.

"It's almost over," he promised irrationally. He had no idea how long it would last, he had no idea how many shooters or how many bullets there were, but he had to assure her.

He felt her relax slightly, and it became silent.

He slid them to the floor, mindful of the glittering around them. His shoes crunched in the sea of shimmering glass as they slowly lowered to the floor. He unconsciously tightened his grip, knowing that now things had calmed down her instincts as a cop would take over, but he needed to be sure it was over before he released her. "Hold still," he advised, doing his best to look around.

It was over.

Satisfied, he loosened his grip on her, allowing her to pull away. He forced his mind to stay focused on her.

"Are you alright?" he asked as he watched her blink against the harsh fluorescent lights.

She nodded, but he took a moment to conduct his own visual investigation to that fact. He could see whisperings of terror in her eyes, of taunting, painful memories, but he could also see her bravery and her strength, the set of her jaw and look of determination familiar. Contented, he nodded and the two stood.

It was time to get to work.

He moved away from her, but was surprised by the sudden grip that held him. He turned to her, unsure of her response.

She refused to make eye contact, only simply turned him around and ran her small hands against his body. She needed to know she was out of her nightmare. He wanted to tell her he was fine, not to worry. He wanted to tell her that he did what he had to do to protect her, and he'd do it again. He wanted to tell her that she had a baby who needed her and a husband who couldn't live without her, but none of that would have mattered. She simply needed to know he was safe; that this time it was different.

Her hands dropped away from his body, and he heard her sigh of relief. It was nice to feel loved, and he offered the barest of smiles before walking away and shouting orders. He didn't bother to look back, knowing his employee was already hard at work.


	3. Danny

**Danny:**

He ran. That was all he could think to do. He ran out of the precinct straight for her. He ignored the cries of outrage as he inelegantly weaved through the crowd, doing his best not to run into someone, but perfectly willing to shove people who were in his way. He could see the building; his eyes drawn to the twinkling of glass that danced across the sidewalk.

His memory flew back to that night, the other crystal night, and he was grateful that he could actually run to her. Phantom pulses of pain radiated through his body from his back, but he pushed through it. His legs burned from the effort to maintain his hectic speed, but he kept running.

He kept running until he came to the row of blue uniformed officers that barricaded the area. They formed a wall, telling him to wait, telling him he couldn't go through—no one was going through. To him it was some demented form of the game Red Rover, and with all his might he shoved through the hands that fought to hold him back.

"Let 'em through!" a voice shouted—Don Flack's voice.

Danny didn't wait for their grip to release him before he set off again, only to find his way hindered once again by his friend.

"Hold on man," Flack chastised him, shoving something over his head.

He struggled against the hold, but stood still long enough for Flack to get one of the straps of the bulletproof vest into place before he shoved away. He tore into the building, by passing the busy the elevator and began the arduous climb up 34 flights of stairs. Waves of people were working their way down, forcing him to push against the current. He wanted to run passed them blindly, but forced himself to search the faces. She wasn't there.

He was breathing hard, and sweating by the time he pushed through the door for the 35th floor, grateful his I.D. still worked and they hadn't shut down the system.

"Sir," a paramedic called, "you can't be up here. We haven't cleared the area."

He didn't bother to respond, merely looked at the young woman who was being treated for a cut. It wasn't her.

"Hey!" the paramedic called again when he jumped around him. "You can't go back there!"

He continued forward, looking in every direction, desperate to see her, hear her, feel her. The wind moved through the floor, through the now open windows; no barrier between him and the sky outside.

"Danny!" Mac called, hearing the commotion.

"Where is she Mac?" he demanded, never stopping, but stumbling over a fallen chair.

Mac pointed, and he turned the corner indicated.

There she was.

She was kneeling over a technician, wiping blood from his arm. His legs quit moving as his lungs finally could bring oxygen into his body. The relief slammed into him, leaving him light headed and weak.

She must have sensed him, felt him. She turned and stared directly at him, her composure slipping slightly. His body began moving on his own, being drawn to her by a force greater than himself. She responded by scrambling to her feet and sliding towards him.

"Lindsay," he called uselessly as he reached out to catch her. She was alive; he could feel her warmth, her breath on his skin. He tried to pull her into him, holding her as tightly as he dared. His cheek to her cheek, his chest to her chest, as fingers gripped desperately for each other.

"You a'right?" he whispered in her ear, not trusting his voice to speak any louder.

He felt her nod; knowing the stubble on his chin would be scratching the smooth skin of her cheekbone.

"The baby?" he continued, knowing if there was a problem she would have immediately sought help, but still needing the confirmation.

She pulled back slightly to look him in the eyes. "We're o.k."

"You're shaking," he realized.

She gave him a smile he was familiar with, a smile that was both sad and encouraging at the same time. "I was scared, but Mac…he protected me, us." One of her hands moved to gently stroke her still flat belly.

He couldn't control himself and pulled her back into his arms, needing to hold her for just a minute longer, unable to process all of his emotions. He tried to force is wildly beating heart to slow and his frantic mind to quiet. She was safe.

He saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Mac was standing there, stoically ensuring everything was alright. Danny pressed his lips together tightly, unable to voice his appreciation. Finally he was able to mouth the words, "Thank you."

Mac nodded, then indicated for Danny to follow him.

Their moment was over. It was time to get to work.

The end.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading!<strong>

**Again, this was just me being a wildly fanatic DL fan who desperately wants a baby boy Messer ^_^ so I couldn't resist.**

**Plus I really like the idea of Mac stepping up to help Lindsay. I've always enjoyed their relationship. It never felt father/daughter-y, but it isn't romantic either. It is unique and sweet. **

**And finally, I apologize for any errors. I don't usually spend a great deal of time editing my stories and this was no different. I'm too lazy…um…I mean I'm too busy! LOL!**


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